A dark figure standing tall against a more imposing one, the other clad in robes of the Argent Fist. Thought to have been destroyed a decade before by the dark figure’s own hand, its master slain and doctrine hopefully quick to be forgotten. Fists flew left and right, brutal and swift yet none hit their mark. A flurry of strikes from the dark figure leaving no injury, not even a graze against the robed man before him. Every strike was parried or dodged without a sound, as if the dark figure’s assault was no more than an infant flailing against an adult. Blow after blow, rendered useless almost effortlessly. The dark powers the dark figure called out too for assistance emboldened and empowered him, to smite down the man before him. His flurry continued, re-doubled his efforts until his strikes connected. For an instant, one did.
The sudden blur of motion and rapid series of punches and kicks that suddenly came from the Argent Fist were uncountable, his eyes couldn’t follow. His body felt each blow but unable to even react before the next came. The dark figure was wrong about the man before him, very much alive, very much a master of his ways. The Argent Fist pummeled him faster and faster before the dark man finally felt the pain rush at him and the beating halt. Doubled over, defeated the the blink of an eye he’d given himself to darker power to defeat this foe, but he was the one defeated. On hands and knees he struggled to breathe. No darker power could best the Argent Fist after all. As he closed his eyes for the final blow to strike him down, he began wondering where he truly failed.
When no finishing blow came, he opened his eyes and looked up to the man now towering over him. He recognized the robed man, once a young trainee who had to be carried away by the fleeing monks ten years ago. A young trainee who tried to stop the previous master from giving up his life to protect his people. The man simply looked down upon him now, no anger, or malice. No sympathy or apathy. The man stared down with eyes unclouded by judgment.
-“W-why?” The dark figure asked.
The robed man gestured out an arm, a hand offered to help him up.
–“Allow me to teach you ‘why’.” he answered simply with a gentle smile.
Race
Human
Class
Monk 5/Paladin 5/Argent Fist 10
Ability Scores
Str 10/Dex 14/Con 16/Int 10/Wis 16/Cha 10
Skills
Knowledge(Religion) 5
Equipment
a wooden holy symbol. Literally nothing else besides clothing.
Goal
Your AC is so high I can’t even see it anymore. You can Smite Evil with Stunning Strike for ridiculous Damage and with a save dc in the middle stratosphere. Almost everything you do is based on Wisdom. Your AC starts at 19 and just keeps increasing from there. By lvl 20 your AC should be 39. 39 AC means things won’t be able to power attack you if they want to hit you at all.
Level
Class
HD
Feat
Special
1
Monk
11
Improved Unarmed Strike, Stunning Strike, Sacred Vow, Vow of Poverty
Unarmed Strike 1d6, AC Bonus(Wisdom), Flurry of Blows, AC Bonus +4
2
Monk
1d8+3
Combat Reflexes, Intuitive Attack
Evasion
3
Monk
1d8+3
Monastic Training
Still Mind, Speed +10, AC Bonus +5, Endure Elements
4
Monk
1d8+3
Touch of Golden Ice
Ki Strike(Magic), Slow Fall 20ft, Unarmed 1d8 Exalted Strike +1(Magic), +1 Wis
